Dec. 23, 1995 Kumasi, Ghana A ladyfriend from Accra accompanied me to Kumasi, Ghana’s 2nd largest city of and spiritual home of the ancient Ashanti empire. Located in the hilly central region about 3 1/2 hours by car from the capital of Accra, Kumasi is now a thriving tourist mecca with a variety of attractions and places of historical interest. Note: The Ashanti King and his royal court still reside here. About a half hour drive from this royal city is Lake Bosumtwi, Ghana’s only natural lake. Surrounded by verdant green hills, this lake is home to several small fishing villages and is considered sacred by the Ashanti people. The lake is very important to the well being of these communities as it provides them with an abundance of fish. Understandably, fish is the staple of people’s diet and fishing is the primary source of income. Christianity and Western culture hasn’t had a tremendous impact here as the people maintain the ways of their Ashanti ancestors and they still pay homage to their African Gods.

Curious about the folklore and mythology of these fishing villages, my friend and I took a taxi to Bosumtwi where we hired a boat for a scenic tour of the lake. The Boat Captain, who was an Ashanti and lived in one of the lakeside villages, recited a very interesting story which was an integral part of Ashanti folklore.

At 16-year intervals, in order to ensure that the lake continues to be abundant with fish, it is customary that the Ashanti people of Bosumtwi district make a sacrificial offering of a human being to the God who resides in the lake. Traditionally, the local people would capture an outsider for this very important ritual as the Gods were most pleased if the sacrificial victim was of European ancestry, and would reward the small fishing villages as such with a superabundance of protein rich fish for the next 16 years.

I asked the boat captain nervously, exactly when does this sacrifice take place? Looking at me with cold steely black eyes, he said that the sacrifice must take place sometime before Christ’s birthday, in other words before Christmas. Hmm, upon hearing this, I gulped, lost all my color and turned a ghostly white. Today was Dec. 22, 1995 - nothing like being in the wrong place at the right time! I could see where this was going. Before I could blink an eye, the captain and my turncoat friend shoved me overboard into the lake. Although I am good swimmer, for some reason the water lacked any buoyancy as I felt myself being dragged below the surface by forces unseen. The rest is history – the local communities were blessed with another 16 years of tremendous fishing!

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